Hell's Gates
by obsessedoverbritishvillains
Summary: What would have happened if Dean had arrived too late to stop Sam from completing the third trial? (AU to Sacrifice)
1. Sam

Sam gazed at the knife in his hands. The third trial was nearly complete. Crowley was just moments away from being cured. The gates of Hell would finally close forever. So why was he hesitating on this golden opportunity?

Was he frightened of what the third trial would do to him? The first two left him in a sickly state that even the Angels couldn't cure according to Castiel. Plus, the second trial had taken an even worse toll on his health than the first trial did. If  
/he did complete this, what would happen to him then?

Or maybe it was because he was scared it wouldn't work. It had worked on that demon that Father Thompson cured, but that was a regular demon. Crowley was the King of Hell. For all he knew, Crowley could have been faking everything he had said up until  
then. Butall the same, it sounded completely genuine when he had practically sobbed that he deserved to be loved.

But the most likely reason he hadn't completed the trial, the very reason he was considering to leave the trial incomplete,was that he was afraid he would disappoint Dean, just like he always did.

 _Oh come on,_ he thought to himself. _Dean would be proud of you. He'd celebrate in the Impala for days on end if you did this._

Try as he might, he couldn't reassure himself of the inevitable. No matter what he did, no matter how many times he convinced himself that he was doing the right thing, Dean always had some reason to show him that he was completely wrong. Even ifhe  
was proven right, the feeling of guilt never left him. He was always left with the thought that he had disappointed his big brother, even if it had been for only a second.

Come to think of it, maybe Dean had already given up on him. He had left with Cas hours ago to finish the Angel Trials, and he didn't seem to be coming back anytime soon. If Dean had truly cared about these trials, he would have come sooner to help himfinish  
the job. But of course he trusts the angels more than his own brother. After all, the only things he'd ever done for Dean, for anyone in fact, had resulted in everyone mistrusting him for an indefinite period of time. Wasn't that allhewas  
good for? Ruining everyone's lives?

Sam shook his head. No. He couldn't let those thoughts get in the way of this. Screw Dean. Screw Cas and the Angel trials. Screw all of the disappointment that would be tossed his way after this was over. This was his decision. He didn't needhisolderbrother  
to tell him what was right or wrong. He would end this here and now.

Sam's hand shook as he cut his hand open. He uttered the words of the exorcism just as if he was reading it from a textbook. He glanced at Crowley for one moment. The former King looked at him with tears in his eyes, and nodded, accepting his fate.

 _This is for my family,_ Sam thought. Closing his eyes, he brought his hand towards Crowley's face, and the world was engulfed in white.

When Sam opened his eyes, Crowley was sitting unconscious in the chair. Slowly, he poured a drop of holy water on him. Nothing. Not even a sizzle. He sighed in relief. He didit. Crowley was cured. All that was left to do was read the final wordsof  
the spell toclose the gates of Hell forever.

Sam unlocked Crowley's handcuffs, and unlocked the chains binding him to the chair. Therewas no threat posed to him now that he was no longer a demon. He pickedup the paper, reading the incantation once more in his mind. He paused for a moment,listening  
for the engine of the Impala, but only silencegreeted him. Typical of Dean. Cas and him were probably celebrating Heaven's gates closing forever. But Sam no longer cared. He was finally doing what he had desired for months.

Putting the paper down, he recited the spell from memory. As he finished the last word, blinding pain burst through his body. He fell to the floor, screaming in agony, as the pain only grew after every second.

"SAM!" a voice called in the distance. He could barely hear it. In fact, all of his senses were fading. At least the pain was going away.

"SAMMY!" the voice called again, fainter this time. He could hear the door burst open, and in his blurry vision, he could see the outline of his brother, a look of shock and despair on his face.

"Dean..." he whispered, shocked that any words came out. He was dying. He knew it. He could barely move his body at all.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, his voice breaking. He rushed to his side, although Sam could barely see him through the blackness overtaking his vision. He tried his best to crack a smile, to give his brother a glimmer of hope.

"We did it, Dean," he murmured. "The gates are closed."

"I know, Sam," Dean said, tears brimming in his eyes. "Now we're going to get you out of here. We're going to get you somewhere safe so you can..."

But Sam didn't hear the rest of the sentence. He couldn't hear anything really. If this was death, it wasn't so bad. It was more peaceful than he'd thought. It was as if he was being rewarded for sealing Hell.

Smiling, he closed his eyes, and let himself fall into Death's embrace.


	2. Dean

Dean rushed to the Impala, and slammed his foot in the gas pedal. The church was a half hour away, and if he didn't make it in time, Sam would... No. No he couldn't think of that. Not now. He didn't think he'd be able to live with himself if that happened. But he had to hurry. Each passing second meant one step closer to the trials being completed, and despite wanting every single black-eyed son of a bitch locked up in Hell, he didn't want to have it happen at the cost of his brothers life.

Guilt tore through his heart like a knife. He never should have left Sammy alone. He never should have trusted Metatron. He never should have gone with Cas to complete those trials (or spell, he was still a bit confused over that entire scenario). He should have realized that his brother's life would have been put in danger from the moment he completed the first trial.

 _It's not your fault,_ a voice in his head whispered. _It was Metatron. He lied about Sam being okay during this ordeal. He lied about everything. In fact, once you save Sammy, you can kill that douche._

Even though he knew that the voice was right, it still didn't help the fact that Dean blamed himself for all of this. It was his fault. Everything that led up to this point was his fault. He dragged Sam back into this life when he had every intention of staying away from it completely. He was the sole reason that Sam didn't just drop everything and do something else with his time. He had brought nothing but pain and suffering back into Sam's life. Maybe these trials were some form of payback for trying to make everything work out for him. Maybe this was Fate's way of saying screw you.

Dean shook his head, erasing the thought from his mind. He couldn't let the feeling of self-loathing take over. Not now at least. Right now he only had one thought on his mind: save his brother.

He saw the church in the distance. He breathed a sigh of relief. The trial hadn't been completed yet from what he saw. He had gotten here in time. That happiness was short-lived, however. As soon as he pulled into the dirt driveway of the church, a flash of white light came through the windows, and he could have sworn he heard someone scream. Sam.

"SAM!" he screamed, racing to the door. The light was fading, and the screams began to die down. No. No he can't be too late. He had to save his brother. That was his job. He can't fail him.

"SAMMY!" he screamed again. He kicked the door open, frantically searching the room for Sam. Crowley was still in the chair, unconscious. Judging by the fact that his chains and handcuffs had been taken off, the third trial had been a success. But that meant...

"Dean..." he heard someone whisper. Panicking, he looked to where the voice came from, and came face-to-face with his brother, lying helpless on the ground.

"Sammy?" he choked, rushing to his side. Sam turned his head to look at him, the small movement seeming as if it was agonizing. He smiled, his breathing becoming more erratic after every second.

"We did it, Dean," he breathed. "The gates are closed."

"I know Sam," Dean said, trying to keep tears from falling down his face. He had to stay strong for his little brother. He owed him that much. "Now we're going to get you out of here. We're going to get you somewhere safe so you can get better, ok? I'm going to take care of you. We'll keep going with this until every evil son of a bitch is dead. Just like always, right Sam? Sam?"

But Sam didn't respond. His eyes had closed, and he wasn't breathing. Dean froze. Shakily, he checked Sam's wrist for a pulse. Nothing.

"Sammy," he whispered, his voice breaking. He couldn't control the tears now. He clutched Sam's body to him, shaking from crying so much. "I'm sorry," he choked. "I'm so sorry."

He carried Sam's body to the car, each step harder than the last. He finally set Sam down, and looked up at the sky. "Cas, where are you?" he whispered. "Why aren't you here making things right? I need you." No matter what he said, no one came. He buried his face in his hands. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a problem he could fix by selling his soul. His brother was dead, and it was all his fault.

Just as he was about to drive away in defeat, he saw something in the sky. No not something. Multiple lights flashed through the sky, falling to Earth. Anyone else might have mistaken it for a meteor shower, but he knew. "No, Cas," he breathed. With no one to share the horror with, he held Sam close to him, as he helplessly watched the angels falling from Heaven.


End file.
